The Dead Don't Speak
by ellazarus
Summary: A zombie apocalypse is exactly what Percy did not want to deal with. However, the rest of the world has other plans.


Percy thought that being a demigod meant he would be more prepared for something like this. The world ending? Sure, he'd been through that. He'd seen a lot of things. But they had all been catastrophes kept under strict secret- so as to say, they were a demigod's fight.

Percy had forgotten exactly what mortals were like when they panicked. The shrill chaos, the running, shrieking, paranoia. Families turned on families. Stores were raided. It was disastrous. Manhattan had been awful, and with the Party Ponies involved, Percy had received a pretty good idea of what the streets would look like in the case of actual mortal involvement.

Imagine it on a world-scale.

The first outbreak had been minor. A sewage worker turned cannibalistic- that's what the news report had said. A girl was found with her insides missing- heart, liver, kidney, entire digestive tract- the whole package. When the police finally apprehended the man, they tried to put handcuffs on- and he turned and ripped out a cop's neck on national television. Things got pretty bad after that.

The dead not staying dead became a serious problem. It'd normally be pretty good, right? Your dead aunt waltzing right out of the grave and up your front steps sounds like it makes for a great family reunion. The only problem here would have been that if you opened the door for your dear, dead relative, she would have proceeded to sink her teeth as far into your flesh as she pleased- that is, until she killed you and you rose again with the same bloodlust as her.

As soon as the kids at camp received news, a lot of them left. Most of them to find their families, or to see how bad the outbreak was. Most of them never came back. Other kids took up arms to keep the dead out. Clarisse was among them, and when Percy and Annabeth left camp, the last they saw of her she was pulling a dead grocer off her spear in triumph.

"Wake up, Seaweed brain."

Blonde hair flicked him in the face, and Percy groaned momentarily before remembering '_Yeah, no noise._' The dead outside the window had been particularly worked up when they went to sleep, and he _really_ did not want to alert them. "Awake- I'm awake- _Stop hitting me with your hair_."

Percy rolled swiftly out from beneath Annabeth's ponytail and sat up, taking in the mildew smell of the cabin they'd found just outside of town, and the chairs piled up by door- handiwork from last night to avoid becoming a late night snack. "What time is it?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Early. Did you sleep okay?"

Percy scowled at the dirt floor where he sat. "Not really." He stretched, and winced when he twisted his back. That _really _hurt. Damn. "You?"

Annabeth shakes her head. "No, not really."

She stands after a minute, brushing the dirt off her shorts and pulling Percy up when she extends her hand to him. Slinging an old red backpack off the shelf behind her, she and Percy remove the chair blockade and step towards the city.

The city is more or less how Percy remembers it- minus the lack of people, the boarded up houses, and the complete and overwhelming amount of _blood_ everywhere.

Also, the last time he was here he was _not_ hiding behind a dumpster in a back alley with his girlfriend.

Currently, that said girlfriend had her hand clasped tightly over his mouth, the look in her eyes telling him that if he even _dared_ to speak, she would slit his throat then and there. Not that he was going to. They could hear something shuffling at the mouth of the alley, low groans and moans reverberating around them as it seemingly debated whether or not to enter. Percy really hoped it didn't. There was no back way out of the alley, and he'd dropped Riptide a little ways down the block and it had yet to reappear in his pocket. There was a fairly good chance they would be eaten before they had the chance to fight. Not to mention the fact that even if they _did _somehow manage to kill it- smashing it's head into the dumpster seemed like a pretty viable option- the noise would most likely draw some of the other undead milling through the streets towards them. So yeah, Percy _really _hoped it left.

After a good five minutes of absolute dread, it did. The groaning and shuffling eventually faded into the background again, and Annabeth removed her hand from its position on Percy's face. "That was way too close," She whispers. "This is bad."

"Yeah," He exhales. "We need to stop trying to kill everything that gets too close."

Annabeth's face goes absolutely deadpan. "I'm pretty sure that's just you."

Percy shrugs, and she whacks him upside the head with the palm of her hand. "Whatever." She continues. "We're running low on the little supplies that we have now. We need to stock up before we completely run out."

Percy frowns a little, eyebrows creasing. "Mom's apartment is really close now though. Don't you think we could just-"

"Percy." Annabeth stops him, sighing as she places a hand on his. "We have no idea what could happen in between here and your Mom's. We don't know what we'll find there. We need to be ready."

"No- I know that. I mean," He shuts his eyes tight. "I just need to know if she's okay."

Annabeth pulls him closer, and hugs him, and Percy breathes out slowly into the crook of her neck. She doesn't need to say anything, but she does anyway. "It'll be okay."

"Thanks."

When they start moving again, they're a lot more careful. Percy keeps Riptide drawn, but refrains from running it through the head of every undead he sees. Instead they keep to the shadows, breathing softly and quietly to keep from drawing as much attention as they can. The farther into the city they get, the harder it is to avoid the undead. When the edge of town finally disappears, the streets are practically _crawling_ with them. Annabeth had been right, and the next time she reached into her backpack, the only thing left was a few bits of jerky.

Scowling, she steps closer the wall as an undead shuffles past her. "There," She hisses to Percy. "Across the street. A McDonalds. We can get _something_ there."

Percy eyes her nervously. "Across the street? Are you completely missing the hordes of dead people hungry for us in between?"

Annabeth glances to the side, hefting a wrench from the remains of a hardware store behind her. "No. Listen, I have a plan."

Percy hated her plan. He really, _really_ hated her plan.

He groaned slightly as she pulled on a pair of rubber gloves- which he had _no _idea where she got- and proceeded to drape human organs on him. "Why do I get the intestines?" He questioned, as she arranged them neatly around his neck. He grimaced, trying not to touch them.

Annabeth fixed him with a steely glare. "Do _you_ want to put a liver in your pocket?"

He flushed. "No. No, not really."

"I didn't think so."

She paused, stepping away from Percy, examining him. After a moment, she stepped forward and poured more blood over his shoulder. Percy blanched.

"Alright," She said, tilting her head. "I think we're done."

Percy shuffled nervously, and the intestines swung from his neck. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Oh, no." Annabeth smiled uncomfortably. "But I mean, it might. They do it in the movies."

"They _wh_-" Percy starts, but Annabeth is already pushing him forward with a muffled '_Shh_.' He relaxes as much as he can as he steps into the masses, shuffling in the limp sort of motion that the rest of the dead do. He can hear Annabeth behind him- or who he _hopes_ is Annabeth- and he makes his way towards the brightly painted red doors of the McDonalds. At least, he hopes that's paint. He can't really tell at this point.

Halfway across the street, an undead next to him sniffs the air and turns towards him. The undead is a tall man, with high cheekbones and eyes so lifeless that Percy is struck with fear. The skin on one side of his face is completely pulled off, and the rest of his bloodstained teeth are exposed. Percy holds his breath as he leans in, bending so far over that Percy can clearly see that his spine is broken- breaching both his skin and his shirt and exposed to the air. He hangs his head in front of Percy, eyes sliding over to rest on him before leaning away again and shuffling past him. Percy exhales in relief, and in a few more shuffles is in front of the vacant McDonalds.

He turns slowly to find Annabeth, and almost jumps out of his skin. She's right behind him, but her expression is so dull and empty that had she not hissed at him to get inside he would have thought she'd been bit. Nodding slowly, he pushes the doors open as quietly as possibly, shuffling inside. The restaurant is empty, from what he can see- and surprisingly clean, for once. He straightens, turning to Annabeth. "Do you think there's anything le-"

He stops. She isn't looking at him, but instead across the room, at a bar stool in the corner. A thin figure sat perched there, a single pale hand hanging low off the counter as they rested their head on the counter itself. Annabeth drags her eyes away from the figure, turning to Percy. 'Do you think it's-"

Percy's hand reaches for Riptide, unwilling to take his eyes off of the figure. His voice is low when he speaks. "I'll see."

Percy picks his way across the tile floor, hand resting lightly on Riptide's cap. As he approaches the form on the stool, he frowns. They look like they're sleeping- and he can't see any blood- but their face lay buried under their dark hair and he can't tell. When he gets close enough he reaches out and shakes the jacket-clad shoulder.

A muffled groan emits from under the mess of hair and Riptide is unsheathed in a flash-resting at the figures neck but waiting for any further movement.

The form shifts, and Percy tenses, but after a moment a tired but familiar voice seeps out with a sigh. "Can't a guy take a nap in a McDonalds without having a sword pointed at him?"

Percy drops his sword arm and gapes. After a minute, he finds his voice. "_Nico_?"


End file.
